A Bad Day at Work
by sterober
Summary: A bad day at work takes on a whole new context when 'I had a bad day at work' means 'I almost didn't make it home'. Pre-established Rizzles one-shot. A little angsty...but ultimately feel-good.


**A/N** : Hello everyone. Here is a quick one-shot that I wrote on a whim. I'm sorry that some of my other stories have not been very active…I've been doing my best to function with a lot weighing on my mind. I know a lot of people are dealing with the same thing.

I wish you all the best and hope that you are safe and happy.

Rizzoli & Isles and its characters do not belong to me. All rights/credits go to the people who have reserved them.

-SJR

* * *

Everyone has bad days at work. I understand that. And, I don't want you to think I'm belittling anyone else's negative experiences when I say this.

A bad day at work takes on a whole new context when 'I had a bad day at work' means 'I almost didn't make it home'.

The glowing street lights of Boston fly by as I stare out the passenger side window of Maura's car while she drives us home. It's been a long day for both of us and we haven't said a word to each other since I got released from the hospital twenty minutes ago. We have plenty we need to say, but I suppose we both understand that it is a conversation best addressed in a more stable environment than the inside of a moving vehicle.

I can practically feel the suppressed emotion rolling off of my wife's tense form and I spare a discrete glance toward her. Her knuckles are white with how hard she's gripping the steering wheel and the almost-dry tear trails along her cheeks don't go unnoticed either.

I return my gaze out the window and cautiously lean my head against the glass. The cold air of late autumn has chilled the transparent surface, which in turn feels amazing against my overheated and throbbing head. The pain-killers I was given at the hospital have worn off and it feels like my brain is trying to squeeze out of the bandaged wound on my scalp.

I really hope my hair starts growing back soon.

I smile to myself at how vain it is to worry about a large portion of my head being shaved, after the severity of the events that have transpired. But, the smile turns into a hiss of pain as the car hits a bump in the road. The movement jostles my head and it hits painfully against the window.

I straighten in my seat and tenderly cradle my head in the palm of my hand. Through my peripherals, I catch Maura's agonized expression before she turns her full attention back to the road. She clears her throat, in an effort to keep her voice from breaking I'm sure, then quietly assures me that we'll be home soon.

The majority of me really hopes that we can save our discussion for in the morning. I've talked about this ordeal too much today, already.

The day started like many of my work days do. Maura and I had overslept…I swear I hit the snooze button in my sleep…so we had to rush to get ready for work. We made it in time to have a quick breakfast at the café, then shared a chaste goodbye kiss and went our separate ways.

Korsak and I had started the day off by going to re-interview a witness to one of our open homicide cases. The woman in question had been keeping close tabs on her brother, trying to keep him away from a gang that had taken interest in him. Unfortunately, her persistent efforts led to her having to watch her brother stab a man in the back eleven times. Her brother had left the man to bleed out, dragging her along with him and threatening her life if she went to the police.

She came to us anyway.

We wanted to set her up in a safe house until we could find and arrest her brother, but she insisted on staying with family. Promising us that she would be safe.

As soon as we pulled up to her family's home, we heard multiple gunshots and screams coming from inside. We flew out of the car and I pulled my gun while Korsak called the shots in to dispatch.

Just as I was approaching the front porch, the door flew open and our suspect came flying out with a gun in his hand. I yelled at him to drop it while simultaneously leveling my weapon at him.

He was at an elevated position, so it didn't take him as long to aim. He shot first, but I moved off my mark and began returning fire, fractions of a second later. I'm not sure how many rounds he got off, I couldn't hear anything beyond my own pounding heartbeat, but I could practically see each of my five rounds as they left the barrel of my gun in a fiery blast and struck him in the torso.

In the midst of this exchange, I remember something hitting me in the side of my head. To be honest, it felt like being drilled in the temple with a fucking Louisville Slugger. I barely caught sight of the suspect falling over the edge of the stoop before I crashed to the ground myself.

After that…It's a little hazy. My hearing slowly returned to me, but my adrenaline was still igniting in my veins like a match to gasoline. I tried to reason with myself that everything was alright and made an effort to reassure my obviously horrified partner. I sat up and placed my hand against a heavy pressure on the side of my head. When I pulled my hand back, it was drenched in blood.

After that, I looked behind me and saw that splotches of blood stained to concrete where I had fallen. I remember Korask telling me that help was coming. He removed his blazer and pressed it firmly against my head while we waited. I must have blacked out, because next thing I remember, I was waking up in the Emergency Room.

I couldn't fully wrap my mind around what had happened. Even after I had woken up in the hospital and been told that I'd been grazed by a bullet. It didn't seem real.

The wound on my head was long, but thankfully not too deep. Although, I was told by doctors, another centimeter or two and the bullet would have taken a good chunk of my brain with it. The medical staff had to completely shave the area around the long gash so they could clean and suture it. It looks terrible, but I guess I should be thankful that there was part of my head left to shave.

Once notifications had been made, the ER was flooded with investigative officials, media, and my family.

The suspect had died on the scene. Tragically, he had shot his sister and their grandmother dead inside the house before we could stop him.

The whole thing was a cluster. The more time I spent being treated for my injuries, the clearer my thoughts became, and the heavier the incident sat upon my shoulders. It had taken the rest of the morning and part of the afternoon, but I had finally convinced the medical staff that I was well enough to be interviewed by internal investigators. I knew I was going to have to give a formal statement to my lieutenant at some point, and I wanted it to be sooner rather than later. It took hours, but the investigators, and my lieutenant, were finally satisfied with my recount of the incident and they left me in peace.

Then the hard part began. My family was allowed in to see me. The energy was frantic, almost violently so, and everyone seemed to be holding onto their sanity by a mere thread. I mostly just sat there, watching my loved ones cry and occasionally yell at each other as they worked through their own worst fears.

I really couldn't think of anything comforting to say.

And then my gaze fell on Maura, who was standing uncharacteristically far away from me in a corner of the room. Her face was stripped of emotion. Her unreadable expression actually gave me chills and I had to swallow back bile rising in my throat.

Things eventually calmed down and a sense of normalcy came over the room. After all, it's not like I'm a stranger to line-of-duty injuries. Maura never did seem to pull out of her funk though…not that I could blame her. I knew what was going through her mind. In fact, I was the _only_ one who did.

Maura pulls into our driveway and parks. I get out of the car and she comes to my side, holding onto my arm and leading me inside our home. She leads me straight to the kitchen island and encourages me to have a seat. I want to say something, but I don't want to interrupt her task.

The doctor procures a new prescription bottle from her purse and grabs a bottle of water from the fridge before coming back over to me. She sets the water down on the counter and pops the top on the little orange medicine container. She shakes two white tablets into her palm, then sets the pills in front of me.

"Take both of these with the entire bottle of water." She doesn't sound mad, or even all that sad. She sounds distant, which, to me, is much worse.

"Okay…" I say, but she's already turned around and heading for the stairs.

I look down at the two waiting pills and scoot them around the counter top with the tip of my finger. I'm not a fan of pain meds. I had a bit of a problem getting off of them after having so much reconstructive work done on my hands. I pick the tablets up and put them in my palm, cringing at the thought of having to rely on pills, yet again, to get over the pain of another injury that had the potential to take my life.

But, the thought of enduring this head-splitting ache indefinitely is not an option. I throw the pills back and chug them down with the entire bottle of water. You know how it is…doctor's orders and all.

A few more minutes pass and I eventually hear Maura coming down the stairs. I turn around and see that she's run through a quick nightly routine and is wearing one of my over-sized t-shirts.

Maura Rizzoli-Isles is effortlessly, heartbreakingly, and awe-inspiringly beautiful. The vision of this enchantress walking toward me is made impossibly sweeter by her platinum wedding band, which gleams even in the low lighting of the room.

I return my gaze to her face and offer a smile, but it falls at the look of tears in her eyes. I was worried she would try to keep some distance from me for the rest of the night, but she does not slow or pause as she approaches. I turn completely in my seat and place my hands on her waste as she stops to stand between my knees.

The doctor cradles my chin in her hand and turns my head so she can get a good look at my bandage…probably checking to see that it doesn't need redressed. Once she's satisfied, she turns my head back to its original position and leans down to place a kiss on my lips. She lingers longer than what could be considered chaste, conveying an incredible depth of love without letting the contact become too passionate.

We break apart and I inhale a calming breath before trying to speak. I get as far as my mouth opening before Maura interrupts me.

"Wait, Jane. Just listen to me."

Her eyes are pleading and I pull her closer to me, so I can wrap my arms completely around her. I give a subtle nod and an encouraging smile, then wait.

Her hazel eyes fill with tears and her bottom lip quivers as she speaks, but she keeps the emotion at bay.

"I can't lose you. We've built this amazing life together, but every time you go out to the field, I have to worry about losing it all. I know that your work defines a large part of who you are…but I had hoped, now that…"

She hangs her head and a sharp hiccup causes her to pause.

This is not a new subject, we've talked about it a number of times before. This is just the first brush with death I've had since we've been married and it's exacerbating an already sensitive topic.

Not to mention…

"What do you want me to do, Maur?" My tone is a little more defensive than I mean for it to be and I cringe at the frustration on her face when she looks back up at me.

"Transfer! Promote! Lord knows you have enough time and experience to make sergeant. Anything that takes you out of the field. You'd be a wonderful supervisor…"

She's right. I know I'd make a good supervisor. That's part of the reason why I submitted my papers last week to apply for the next round of sergeant testing. Another part being…

"I thought that when we learned the procedure finally took, you'd be more willing to keep yourself safe. Do you even think about what it would do to me to lose you? To have to raise this child without you?"

Her voice breaks then. Her tears finally fall as she interlaces her fingers and places her palms against her own stomach. It's a little too soon for any kind of bump to show, but the reality of her pregnancy is no less astounding.

My vision blurs as tears spring to my own eyes, and I can hardly breathe past the lump in my throat. I move my hands to cup her face and give her a salty kiss as our tears intermingle. When I pull back, she looks heartbroken. I try to smile, but I'm not sure how successful my attempt is.

"They'll be testing for two new sergeants in three months. I put in my request for consideration last week and should be getting my study packet soon. This job will always be dangerous, no matter what position I'm in, but I'm trying to do better by us and our soon-to-be family. My work used to define my life, but that was before all of this. I've never wanted _anything_ as bad as I want a long life with you."

Her resulting smile is genuine and she dives in for another kiss. This one is has more passion behind it, and it's a little sloppy. Partly because we've both been crying and partly because I can't feel my tongue anymore. I guess my painkillers are kicking in.

Whether or not it is a conscious effort, her pelvis grinds into my own and I groan into her mouth. She pulls back with a grin, but the slightly mischievous look softens to one of pure care as she takes in my appearance.

I'm sure she can see every effect the medication is having on me, and she gives my forehead a gently peck before helping me to stand.

"Let's get you in bed before I have to carry you there…"

A short journey later and we're both standing in our en suite bathroom. Maura helps me to undress and clean up a bit. She takes the time to run her fingers over the numerous scars that litter my flesh, placing butterfly light kisses to the ones she can easily reach. Even after the years we've spent together, this act is still incredibly intimate and I can't help the blush that rises to my face.

After being successfully dressed in loose PJs, Maura helps tuck me into bed. She makes sure to position the pillows so that my shoulders and head are slightly elevated then gives me one last kiss before slipping into bed next to me.

We whisper 'I love you' and 'goodnight' and the room goes quiet. As my vision begins to darken around the edges, I can't help but thank God that this bad day at work didn't cost me my life.

With an amazing wife at my side, and a baby on the way, life is only just beginning.


End file.
